


Day 8

by rhysgore



Series: Kinktober 2016 [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Kinktober, Latex, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: PVC is a terrible material for catsuits.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 8 of kinktober: leather/latex, and published slightly late because of family stuff

Despite what movies might want you to believe, PVC is a  _ terrible  _ choice of material for actual spy catsuits. It’s far less flexible than it looks, difficult to squeeze in and out of, pinches uncomfortably in the  _ worst  _ places, and the fact that it’s usually absurdly shiny makes it impractical for sneaking around in. It’s utterly useless in tactical garments of any kind, much less in those specifically designed for people regularly doing aerobic activities and contorting their bodies.

 

Lena  _ knows  _ this, and it frustrates her every single time she confronts Widowmaker, or looks at a picture of her, or even thinks about her for a second. That much latex is horribly inefficient for someone with a job like hers. That’s the frustrating thing about that outfit. That’s the  _ only  _ frustrating thing.

 

As she slides a finger into herself she’s definitely  _ not  _ thinking about the way the outfit pushes Widowmaker’s chest up, makes it look like she’s going to burst out of her clothes at any second. Lena’s not thinking of the way the shiny, skintight material hugs the curves of her waist and backside and those  _ legs,  _ leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

 

And she is  _ absolutely _ not thinking about what it would be like to have those legs wrapped around her head as she touches herself, two fingers in, now, thumb rubbing against her clit. Not imagining there being a split in the crotch of the suit, or what it would be like to bury her head between Widowmaker’s powerful, shapely thighs, squeezed tight into impractical latex leggings. Not picturing eating her until those thighs clamp tight around her, the smooth, slippery feeling of the tights as the muscle underneath squeezes her head until it feels like it’s going to pop.

 

It’s definitely  _ not  _ Widowmaker writhing under her tongue, body heaving only as much as it can in the confines of her catsuit as Lena works her to completion that Lena’s thinking about as she moans and comes around her fingers.

  
Not. At. All.


End file.
